The Middle Child
by DarkElements10
Summary: Ever wonder why Colt acts out and is known for having a temper?


**The Middle Child**

**By: Rhuben**

**Summary-Ever wonder why Colt acts out and is known for having a temper?**

* * *

Jeffery Douglas.

Also known as Colt.

Also known as the problem child.

At least some people thought of him that way. With his brash attitude, his tendencies to do things without thinking and being ready to defend himself against anybody and everybody he couldn't really blame them. They just didn't understand. No one did.

Here he was sandwiched between his perfect older brother, and his cute baby brother. He had to make himself visible to people somehow. Not just anybody though. He didn't care what his brothers thought of his attitude, or the teachers at school, or even the bullies that made the mistake of crossing paths with him.

None of them mattered.

The only people that mattered were his parents. _They _were who he was doing all of this for. Acting out wasn't something he was really proud of at times, but it was necessary…in a way. He didn't always like to think of himself as the hot-headed child who would get in your face first, ask questions later, but it always managed to get their parents off of the topic of their ninja lessons, or how much both his mom and dad have been working, or what _their son_ did that day.

And that day, Colt had gotten into another fight at school. As he lay on his back on the floor of the room he shared with Tum-Tum, after Rocky had moved out to the room at the end of the hall, he stared up at the ceiling, giving his right ear a rest from being pressed into the floor to hear what his mom had to say about "_your son_" to his dad.

He hated those words; _your son_.

Even when he was a kid, and all he wanted was some attention from his parents, he'd wind up doing something that'd make them annoyed or angry with him. Like the time he broke his mom's vase showing her the new martial arts kata he had learned at his Grandpa's cabin, or when he broke the window with his baseball bat trying to show his dad how much he had tried to improve his ball/bat coordination.

"_Maybe, Sam, if you spent more time at home with him you'd be able to help him out_."

"_I have to work, Jessica. Someone around here has to._"

"_I can't believe you're throwing that back in my face. We _both _agreed that it'd be best for us if I stayed at home with the kids._"

"_So you can't blame me for taking some later shifts, especially with cases like this. I know it can be hard for you at home by yourself with Samuel, Jeffery, and Michael, but this is something I have to do. I'm sorry it can be hard at times, but so can my job._"

"_You think I like staying here wondering and worrying when you're going to come home when you don't even have the decency to call? I don't care if you're working late, a little notice would be appreciative._"

Silence, and then his mom talked again, in a quieter tone of voice.

"_I just don't think you understand how hard it is to look after our boys by yourself for hours when you're frazzled. I, I'll be honest, I think you have it easy sometimes, all you have to do is discipline them when you get home._"

"_Jessica, that is not all I do and you know it. I need to work."_

_"And I need you at home."_

_"Jessica—"_

_"Fine. Fine. I'm just…I'm tired of this, Sam. I'm just done._"

At seven-years-old those words scared Colt. Huddled in his hiding spot, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He pulled his legs closer to his chest and buried his face into his legs. The silence was deafening. It felt like an eternity of waiting, and Colt decided to crawl out from behind the island in the kitchen.

"Mommy," he said as he pushed himself to his feet, walking over to his parents, rubbing at his eyes with his closed fist.

"Oh, sweetie," Jessica Douglas said with a sigh, raking her fingers through her hair, using her feet to push her chair away from the table. Sam briefly closed his eyes, running his hands over his face before sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Son, did you hear all that?" Sam asked. Colt slowly nodded his head.

"Are you getting a divorce?" he asked, looking up at his mom, blinking his green eyes.

"Jeffery," Jessica said, sliding her hands into his armpits, lifting him up off of the linoleum floor and into her lap. "No. We're sorry you had to hear that. Parents just fight sometimes."

"Jeffery, your mother and I love each other very much, but that doesn't mean we don't get short with each other sometimes," Sam added, reaching out a hand to ruffle Colt's hair. Colt let out a sigh through his nose and leaned against his mom. "You, Samuel, and Michael fight all the time. But, you still love them, right?"

Colt wrinkled his nose and poked his small tongue out between his lips, making a face, but nodded his head up and down. Samuel briefly closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. Jessica let out a small laugh, sliding her fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek.

"You sounded mad at each other," he said quietly.

"We do get mad at each other sometimes, because we both have different views on things," Jessica replied. "That doesn't mean we don't love each other and that we don't love you, and Samuel, and Michael. Ok? We're not going to get a divorce over one small disagreement." She hugged him tightly. "We didn't mean to scare you."

For the longest time, Colt had thought that argument was all about him, but he came to terms knowing that it was a problem the two of them needed to work out together. Bottom line, his dad worked so hard he was barely at home and it was putting a strain on his mom. His mom was upset about it and so was he. So he started to act out; he tried to find any reason to get some attention from his dad in the small amount of time he was at home, and to just have an excuse for him to come home.

Colt sighed, stretching his arms up above his head. He hated the silence more than anything, but even playing his favorite CD as loud as he could wasn't going to help. His dad _had _cut back how much time he worked out of the home, but that meant he spent more time in his office, asking for peace and quiet. It was where he turned to after an argument with his sons, or a marital spat, or whenever he needed to get away from yet another round of "Who's the bigger spaz" between him and Tum-Tum.

"Screw it," Colt said, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled himself up into a seated position.

He ran his hands over his long hair, sliding it forward over his face before jumping to his feet. Grabbing the waistband of his jeans, he tugged on them, pulling the hem off of the floor before shuffling over to his desk. Grabbing the baseball off his desk, he made his way out of his room.

This time he wasn't going to wait for a lecture. He was going to grow up, like his father always told him to do, and face the problem head on.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and paused in front of his dad's office door. It was partially closed, but he could still see the occasional shuffle of papers shortly followed by a heavy sigh. Colt tightly gripped the ball in his hand and let out a breath of air before stepping over to the door. He placed the flat of his free hand on the door, pushing it open.

"Hey, dad?" Colt called, leaning in the doorway of his dad's office. Sam Douglas scratched the side of his jaw with one hand, setting down the stack of papers he was reading with his other hand before he lifted his graying head to peer at his son, his eyebrows sliding together into a look of curiosity. Colt showed him the baseball in his hands before throwing it up into the air, catching it in his hand. "You…wanna play catch…and talk?"

Sam let out a sigh through his nose, folding his hands together on his desk. Colt sighed, using his shoulder to push himself up off of the door frame, already knowing the answer. He bowed his head for a moment, tossing the baseball back and forth between his hands, standing up straight. "You know what," Sam said in a quiet voice, "that sounds pretty damn good, son."

"It does?" Colt asked, blinking in surprise.

"Yes," Sam replied, pushing his chair back, giving himself room to stand. He reached up to the collar of his shirt and loosened his tie before popping the top button. "I've been working on this case for so long…an hour or two…" He pulled his tie from under the folded collar of his shirt and set it down onto the table, "Or _three_ of a break sounds real good right now."

"Really?" Colt asked.

"Yeah, really," Sam replied, clapping his hands together before holding his hands out towards him. Colt tossed the baseball towards him and his dad snatched it out of the air. He tossed the ball up into the air, catching it in his hand as he made his way around his desk to loop an arm around his son's shoulders. "Sounds like fun."

Colt smiled.

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**A/N: **I had been thinking about this idea for a while. I wondered if Colt had resentment towards his dad because of how much time he spent at work so he acted out; partially because he was trying to have a reason for his dad to come home and partially because, as the middle child he wanted attention.

Hope you all liked it. I want to make this a bit of a series with a one-shot about Rocky as the eldest child, and Tum-Tum as the youngest. I have an idea for Rocky, just not Tum-Tum.


End file.
